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"Will you move your elbow?" Bram growls.
"Shh," I whisper scold him. How can he be so loud? He knows there's hunters after us. He knows they weren't too far behind when we got in here, and it's only been an hour or so. Not that I know how I can tell. Maybe my internal body clock also got better with turning. I can hope. That's a useful skill to have.
"Sorry," he responds quietly this time.
His breath fans against the skin of my neck, and I quite like it. Damn, no. That is not an appropriate thought for the situation.
Especially when I can feel how affected he is by my proximity. I'm hoping it's just because he hasn't had sex in a while. I think. Maybe I don't hope that. Maybe I'm really wanting it to be about me.
Again. Not appropriate. What is wrong with me today?
Oh, right. I'm being hunted by the people I used to work along side, and had to climb into a bunker or burn to death. Perfectly reasonable reasons for me to have a bad day.
Even so, I shift my elbow as much as I can, hoping it will make him more comfortable, and less likely to kill me before daylight ended. He's sadistic enough to use my own stakes against me.
I think I'd rather he stakes me in an altogether different way.
Okay, that's enough. I need to drag my mind back up from the gutter or I'm going to lose it completely.
"Tell me about her," I whisper.
Oh. Wow. Great going. Ask the pissy vampire about his dead wife.
When did I get so smart?
"Why?" he answers instantly.
Interesting. And not what I expect.
“We’re stuck in a bunker for the next twelve hours or so, we need to talk about something.” I keep my voice low, like Bram is too
. We both know what’s at risk here. And I don’t imagine burning to death would be a particularly nice way to die. I already escaped death once. Twice, if I count my little trip out into the sun. I’m choosing not to.
“But why do you want to know?” he stresses.
I sigh. Only one thing for it. “Because if she’s the reason you hate me, then I want to understand why.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Seems like it,” I huff. He’s done nothing but square off against me since we met. I didn’t ask for any of this. Vampire life has been just as thrust on me as it was for him all those years ago.
“Who told you?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I reply hastily, trying not to think of my odd conversation with Eric.
“I’m going to kill Remus.”
“It wasn’t him.” Which probably gave away the truth. Bram is well aware of who I’ve spent time with since becoming a vampire.
“Oh.” He sounds resigned, and despite myself, I reach out and touch his face gently, trailing my finger down his cheek. He shivers beneath my touch, but doesn’t pull away.
So I do. It’s a little weird for him not to respond. I don’t really know how to deal with it.
"Please?" I almost beg. Why am I so interested in her? It's not like she's in the way of...well, of whatever I seem to believe she's in the way of.
"You're not going to like it," he tells me. How interesting. That's not how I expect him to start. Maybe he doesn't actually hate me then.
But if vampire hunters killed my wife, or husband, or whatever, then I'd probably hate me to. To be fair to him.
